


My Safety Zone

by fullmetalscully



Series: Camp Nano 2019 [7]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Canon Universe, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Royai - Freeform, hurt Roy, tired riza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 20:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18667879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullmetalscully/pseuds/fullmetalscully
Summary: Roy is too stubborn for his own good when he's injured and it takes it's toll during a mission. Luckily, Riza is there to take him home and make sure he keeps himself out of more trouble.





	My Safety Zone

**Author's Note:**

> "I just absolutely love your royai oneshots especially when it's hurt roy with riza comforting him. If you have the time, maybe you could write a royai oneshot where Roy breaks a few ribs on a mission and he goes back to work against the doctor's orders but ends up being in too much pain to do much of anything so Riza takes him home and takes care of him?" - Anon
> 
> hehehe this shouldn't have been so fun to write, but it was ;)

  ** _you can be my safety zone_ **

**_somewhere_ **

**_i can go and feel unknown_ **

**_that's all i need_ **

**_all i want_ **

**_is to stay a little longer now_ **

**_arms around me like a border_ **

**_the ocean | mike perry_ **

_This is fine. This is –_

Roy groaned in pain, louder than he would have liked. He crouched quickly behind a car, shielding himself from the view of his team. If they knew… If _Hawkeye_ knew… Roy shuddered.

There would be a whole lot of “I told you so” and disapproving looks, and Roy really didn’t feel like dealing with it right now. He had had enough of that after he broke his ribs in the first place.

It was stupid really, even he wasn’t ashamed to admit that. Last week while on a mission he had dived out the way of falling debris, only to realise at the last minute he was jumping to land on _more_ debris, bits of concrete that had already fallen in the early explosion. Tucking his body in to try – in vain – to change his course and protect his body, Roy landed heavily on the stone, his ribs taking the brunt of the impact. Although he had tried to tuck into a ball, another explosion startled him in the process, causing Roy to lose focus and his limbs to jerk outwards in fright.

Okay, maybe he was a little ashamed to admit it.

Big, dumb, idiot.

“Boss?” Breda called to him, coming to a stop behind the dumpster next to him.

 _Fuck_.

“You okay?” Breda asked after a rather impressive roll, coming to a stop right next to his commanding officer.

“Great,” Roy panted. If his ribs weren’t so sore, he would have laughed at how poor an attempt that was to appear convincing. “Just fucking _swell_.”

“Hawkeye –!”

“No!” Roy hissed, only to double over in pain once more. Breda just shot him a “Shouting “no”? Really?” look, before calling for their sniper as loudly as he dared. Hawkeye took one look at his pathetic face and pursed her lips. She nodded in understanding, asking Breda to take her place up front next to Havoc.

“I’ll deal with the Colonel,” she stated cryptically, and Roy swallowed. The glare on her face spoke volumes.

_She’ll deal with me all right. She’s going to kick my ass._

Without another word Hawkeye wrapped an arm underneath his, gripping his wrist tightly as she helped him walk back to their car which was sitting only a hundred metres or so away. They passed Alphonse on the way. He had been on standby back at the car in order to cover their backs.

“Colonel!” he cried in concern. “Are you all right?”

“He’s fine,” Hawkeye replied curtly. One movement jarred Roy, causing pain to flair on the opposite side Hawkeye was on. He gasped before gritting his teeth against the fire in his side.

“Colonel –”

“I’ll take the Colonel back to HQ. Tell Havoc to wrap it up here and we’ll see them after I’ve taken the _Colonel_ to the hospital to check out his _still broken_ ribs.”

Why did she say his title like that?

“Right!” Alphonse nodded, turning on his heel and running to join the fray with the rest of the team.

“I’m in charge here, Hawkeye,” he muttered to himself. Roy knew that would get him into even more trouble, but what was another little thing at this point? She was already pissed. However, after one look from his Lieutenant, he still regretted it. _Good god, man, don’t anger her further._

“When you begin to act like a superior officer – and _not_ a child –I’ll respect that,” she replied, tone clipped. “Until then, you will be treated as such.”

“I am _not_ a child,” he replied, affronted by what she was suggesting.

“Who checked themselves out of the hospital against doctor’s orders? Who returned to work when they weren’t ready to? _Who_ just injured themselves _even further_ because they couldn’t _stand_ the thought of –”

“Enough, Lieutenant,” he growled. The effect of his anger lessened as he groaned in pain, clutching his ribs once more, as the car pulled away and Hawkeye sped through the streets of Central towards the military hospital, her knuckles white against the steering wheel.

* * *

“Since you don’t appreciate our hospitality, Colonel Mustang,” the doctor joked, although there was an air of disapproval about him. “I’ve just called your superior, General Grumman, and informed him of the situation. He asked me to the pass on the message that you are dismissed and should return home until a doctor can sign you off, stating you’re fit to return to work.”

Roy thought he looked a little too pleased about that fact. Hawkeye did too.

It was nothing personal against the doctor. Roy just hated being idle. He had tried to strategize from his hospital room, but it simply didn’t work. He liked having that window behind his desk as he tried to come up with a plan. He liked staring at the high ceilings of his office are he ruminated while the team quietly bustled around him doing their paperwork. What Roy didn’t appreciate was the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital placed irritably _right_ over his bed and the constant being of machinery from somewhere nearby. It had drove him crazy.

Was it so wrong to want to return to work?

“Yes,” Hawkeye replied as she drove him back to his apartment.

Roy sulked in response, grimacing as even the painkillers they had given him still didn’t completely kill the pain.

He clutched his side as they walked up the stairs, the lift in his apartment building out of order. The world was completely against him today, it seemed.

“Sit,” Hawkeye ordered, gently pushing his shoulders towards the only piece of furniture in his living room.

“I can handle it myself,” he grumbled, wincing in pain as he sat on his couch. With another person in the room, Roy realised just how barren his apartment looked. Books littered the floor, taking the place of furniture that should have been there. He’d never bothered with buying new things when coming to Central because he had more important things to worry about. Now, as Hawkeye rifled through cupboards trying to find a mug, Roy noticed with dismay that he really needed to get some more things. He was turning into those scholarly types that only focussed on their subject of expertise with little awareness of what was happening around them. That’s how he felt in this apartment right now.

He shuddered when he also realised his apartment looked like Berthold Hawkeye’s office. All books and knowledge with no concern for accommodating anyone else.

He needed new furniture.

“What was that, sir?” Riza called from the kitchen. With a sigh, she closed the final cupboard with more force to vent her frustration. “You have no mugs. In fact, you have nothing in these cupboards at all.”

“In that cupboard there.” Roy pointed to one she hadn’t searched yet, sitting beside the oven. That’s where he kept most of his things.

“Sir… Is this all you have?” She looked at him with pity.

“It works for me,” he shrugged, then hissed as a sharp pain pierced his torso.

There was a quiet sound of disapproval followed by a mug hitting the faux-marble countertop.

Hawkeye placed a mug of coffee down in front of him. Roy opened his eyes blearily, looking up at her with a sheepish smile.

“Thank you, Hawkeye.”

“Don’t mention it, sir,” she replied, voice no longer holding any hint of disapproval or irritation. For that, Roy was grateful. The painkillers were starting to kick in with full force, making his movements sluggish and his eyes droop. Hawkeye sat on the opposite side of the couch, perched on the edge, as she sipped from her own mug. It was one the team had gotten him for Christmas one year. The words “snap, snap” emblazoned on one side, while the other side of the mug read “spark, spark”, both coupled with a picture of fire. He had laughed so hard at that. Apparently, they had all heard the message he’d left on his answer machine. Damn Hughes and damn Roy for losing that bet. Now that cringey rap was immortalised on a mug.

Roy smiled to himself sleepily, head leaning back against the back of the couch as his eyes closed.

“Sir?” Hawkeye asked. One eye opened slowly, as if his eyelids were stuck together with honey. “Are you going to drink that?”

“Mhm,” he replied, eye falling closed. There was a nice warm feeling spreading throughout his body which was only enhanced as he listened to Hawkeye speak, the sound of her voice wrapping around his frame and calming him instantly. His heart leapt when he heard her chuckle quietly to herself.

Then, he was moving. The warmth continued to shroud him as two hands eased him into his back. Fingers ghosted over his thin shirt, making him groan. If he was lucid, that would have embarrassed him, especially when it was _Hawkeye’s_ hands on him.

There was that quiet laugh again.

His hair shifted, the strands tickling his forehead gone and brushed off to the side. There was a pressure on his forehead, something soft, but then it was gone. He desperately wanted to know what it was but didn’t have the strength to open his eyes.

More comforting warmth surrounded him as something soft covered his whole body, protecting him from the cool air in his apartment. However, thoughts of Hawkeye warmed his body and soul more than any blanket of comforter could.

When Roy awoke the pain was back in his torso, and he groaned as he tried to sit up, to no avail. Suddenly, a pair of hands were behind his back, gently guiding him into a sitting position. Looking up Roy came face-to-face with Hawkeye, who smiled softly down at him. Her hair was still clipped up, but a few strands fell down the sides, framing her face. Her fringe was tousled and there was a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead. The sleeves of her shirt were rolled up to the elbow, her military jacket discarded over the back of his couch, telling him she had kept herself busy.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

In all honesty, he hadn’t expected her to still be here. He was a pain in the ass, they all knew that, but Hawkeye had still stayed.

The faint smell of disinfectant filled his nostrils. Glancing around his apartment he saw the kitchen had been tidied, and his books were all stacked into neat piles and organised alphabetically along one wall, rather than being haphazardly piled up in the middle of the floor.

Hawkeye had simply shrugged, stating she had been bored while he slept. He’d been asleep for four hours.

Roy watched after her in wonder, a slow grin spreading across his face.

He was certainly lucky to have her.


End file.
